


Those were the days, young man!

by KungfuChicken



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Embarrassment, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:10:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8315125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KungfuChicken/pseuds/KungfuChicken
Summary: Old Nan has not always been old and her memory is as good as ever.





	

He would never admit it to the other soldiers and knights who complained constantly about the cold, the summer snows and the lame entertainment compared to Kings Landing. But he rather liked it here at Winterfell. He would join the sneers and japes about the gloomy Northerners, their dire weather, their lack of decent wine and whores but secretly he enjoyed his stay here for the very reasons his comrades found the North appalling. The taciturn northern temperament went well with his own, he found it actually nice not to be drenched in sweat just from standing around and although he shared his comrades lack of enthusiasm about the strange brew the Northerners called „ale“, he did not miss having shoved tits in his face constantly when he would rather just sit and drink, minding his own business. Yes, Winterfell was one of the few places Sandor Clegane could say he felt at ease. Or at least as much at ease as one could feel when being the Hound and having to guard the notoriously ill-tempered Queen Cersei Lannister and her insufferable brat of a crown prince. 

After one of these quiet evenings he returned to his chamber. It was not as late as usual but today he did not feel like staying in the great hall. All of a sudden he heard a cough and a shuffle. Him being the dutiful guard that he was, trained to hear unusual and potentially threatening sounds, he went to investigate. To his surprise he met the ancient nursemaid of the Stark children, sitting on a bench in the corridor, seemingly waiting for something. When she heard him approaching she turned her shrivelled head and looked up at him benignly with her blind eyes. 

"Oh there you are, Hodor my dear. I thought you had forgotten about your old Nan! Come, take me to my room. "

He was obviously not the one she had been expecting. But it felt wrong to let an ancient and frail-looking woman sit in a cold, drafty corridor.

"I am not Hodor, madam. But if you wish, I will take you to your room. "

She smiled at him, her toothless gums showing. In Kings Landing he probably would not have cared about accompanying some old blind crone to wherever she intended to go. But this was not Kings Landing and somehow her toothless smile let the thick crust he had built around himself crumble a little. No one saw him, it would do no harm to lead her to her room.

"That would be lovely young man, would you mind helping me up?“

She grabbed his hand and he pulled her up. She seemed no heavier than a feather. 

"Oh, you are a tall one! Not many men that are as tall!“

Well that certainly must be true. There were not many men who could look him straight in the eye without craning their necks. And she was a tiny old thing. They shuffled slowly through the silent corridors, the old woman leading the way. She seemed sure of where she was supposed to be going, her small gnarly hands grabbing his arm with surprising strength.

"I am sure I have never met you here in Winterfell before. You came with the King, then? Are you from the South ?"

" Yes, I am in the company of the King, madam. But I am not from the south. I am from the Westerlands."

She cackled. And then, to Sandors disbelieving surprise, she changed her shaky voice into what was probably supposed to pass for a seductive purr and said: "I didn’t know they made them as tall and strong as that, in the Westerlands.“ And she said it while looking up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her milky, unseeing eyes. 

He hoped he had misheard and misunderstood, but then he clearly felt her fingering his biceps. Panic bubbled in his gut and he thought briefly about running off, leaving the old woman where she stood, politeness and decency forgotten. But then she stopped abruptly, apparently they were standing before her room. Relief flooded through him.  
She opened the door, her antics seemingly forgotten. But when he curtly bid her goodbye her toothless smile grew wicked and mischief was clearly written all over her wrinkled old face. "I once knew a man from the South, as tall and strong as you. Duncan was his name. And let me tell you young man, the time I spent with him was the best time I ever had in my whole life. And if I was seventy years younger I would climb you like a tree!“ 

And with that she closed the door in his face.

**Author's Note:**

> I am of course referring to Brans vision of the slender young girl kissing a very tall knight in the godswood of Winterfell. These two are widely speculated to be Old Nan and none other than the legendary Ser Duncan the Tall.


End file.
